


Exes and Cops and Awkward Reunions, Oh My!

by scream4dean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Destiel - Freeform, Drunk Dean, Exes, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, awkward reunions since one party is drunk af, cop!cas, im a fudging cupcake, lawyer!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scream4dean/pseuds/scream4dean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm your ex, you're a cop, and I just got arrested for being drunk and disorderly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exes and Cops and Awkward Reunions, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

> There's only a mention of Sam, but no actual Sam :(  
> Also, I can't guarantee this is has fluff. I mean, two exes seeing each other for the first time in months, it's bound to get painful.  
> At least no one dies, right?

Dean was most definitely drunk out of his mind. The bartender stopped giving him drinks hours ago, and Dean was still at the lousy bar desperately hitting on _everyone_. That’s not to mention the inordinate amounts of money he lost betting on pool—and losing. Plus all of that whiskey. And the peach schnapps. And strawberry martinis. What? He’d never tried one, and at the moment it sounded so good. Then the table dancing. Oh, god. At one point Dean deliriously thought that dancing to Fire of Unknown Origin by Blue Oyster Cult was a good idea. With his shirt off. That was when he got thrown out of the bar.

Yeah, he was definitely going to regret this in the morning.

Stumbling along the uneven pavement, Dean tried to find his way home. Only one problem: he had no fucking clue where he was. There was, stores? Dean squinted at the bright lights and the people around him, but he kept seeing double and whoa, did a unicorn just fly above him?

He must’ve made some commotion about that fucking unicorn because the world began spinning and when he came to, he was in the back of a cop car with the terrible premonition of a disastrous hangover. The driver, frankly, was awful. Every turn was a swerve and Dean’s head would smack into the window. Add a dash of nausea to the mix, and you have one very shitty feeling Dean.

With his hands cuffed behind him and a slow brain that was literally pudding and a tongue that was too big and heavy for his mouth, there was no fucking way Dean could’ve warned the cop that the peach schnapps and martinis and whiskeys were about to reappear in one very disgusting, reeking mess in the back.

“Whoopsies,” Dean lamented.

The cop ignored Dean, however, and when they got to the police station, he silently grabbed Dean and shoved him out of the car.

“Why so rough?” he slurred. “You oughta be one kinky son of a bitch.”

“You would know,” a gruff answer countered. Wait, Dean knew that voice…

Just to make sure, Dean also took a big whiff. And sure enough, the smell of Egyptian musk and the smooth, spicy aftershave the cop wore brought Dean back to a time not too long ago where that smell was what he woke up to, what he breathed in every second of every minute, what he had to learn to forget.

Just when the gears in Dean’s brain sluggishly clicked, they were inside the station. 

“Castiel,” he spoke with a tongue of lead. Castiel, aka the cop, aka Dean’s _ex_ , said nothing but pulled him to a front desk.

“This asshat threw up in my car, do you think you can get somebody to clean it up?” Castiel, aka the cop, aka Dean’s ex, asked the guy up front.

“Yeah, I suppose…”

“Thanks, Alfie. Also, I’m gonna need forms for him too.”

“What are you charging him with?”

“Drunk and disorderly conduct.”

Dean smiled, “You wish I was drunk and disorderly. I’m as sober as a fudging cupcake.” Except, that was what Dean thought he said. What he really said was, “I’m a fudging cupcake,” hiccup, “no drunk. Nope.”

Castiel, aka the cop, aka Dean’s ex, sighed. He turned to Alfie, and gave him the _drunk people, am I right?_ eyeroll. Then he pulled Dean to the other side of the precinct where the holding cells were. He sat Dean down on one of the benches, and then Dean started to talk.

“So that’s it? Jus’ gonna arrest me and that’s it?”

Castiel groaned inwardly. It was three a.m. and he did not want to do this now, with Dean drunk out of his mind. “If we can keep it that way, yes.”

“Totally gonna ignore the fact that we used to fuck until you left me high and dry, huh?”

“Dean…” Castiel started.

“No.” Dean started to get up from his bench, but still wasn’t sober enough (if at all) to properly walk on his own two feet. “You,” he dramatically pointed, “what the fuck, man? It was good. Oh, right. _I_ thought it was good. What happened? I was putting all of me into that relationship and the fuck? You decide it’s “ _not healthy_ ” and you need a “ _break_ ” because some weird shit.” While Dean was delivering this fantastic speech, he was waving his arms wildly and exaggerating the quotation marks. Even as a drunk, Castiel thought, Dean does likes to be dramatic.

Then Dean took a sharp, weird turn. “We used to fuck! Ha! Do you still have that weird neck thing where you go-“ Dean sunk his chin as far as he could into his neck and brought his shoulders up really high, mimicking the gesture Castiel would make whenever his neck was tickled. He started to laugh hysterically.

“Dean, you should rest.”

“You go rest… you…”

“Dean.”

“No.”

“ _Dean_ , just.” A deep sigh. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah. Alright. You do that. Okay? Bye,” Dean mocked.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and left.

Dean eventually fell asleep and when he did, boy did he _sleep_. He didn’t wake up until very late the next day. What’s worse, he had the most massive hangover anybody could ever have, and the sunlight streaming in from the window opposite of him wasn’t helping one fucking bit.

“Morning, sunshine.” Dean’s neck snapped up at the voice, and immediately regretted it as a fresh wave of steady thunder rolled in his head. He winced, and there was a chuckle.

“Nice hangover you have there,” Castiel casually commented. He strolled over to Dean, holding a cup of coffee on one hand and two white pills on the other. He quietly offered them to Dean, who dry-swallowed the aspirin, and took the coffee with a nod of thanks. The coffee burned Dean’s tongue thoroughly, but at least it distracted him from his headache and the fact that his fucking _ex_ was standing right there. 

“What happened last night?” he asked warily.

“Well, you practically drank enough liquor to kill someone, raved about a unicorn and threw up in my car. Don't you remember anything?”

“Not a fucking thing.” Lie. He remembered. It was a bit fuzzy, but there. His face burned with mortification, and Castiel saw that, but made no comment. Best to just ignore the awkward pauses. Cover it up with casual, cop talk.

“Well, anyways, you were charged with drunk and disorderly conduct. I don’t want to get into details, but you’re lucky your brother is a public defending attorney. You damn lucky bastard,” Castiel reported. 

_Sam_. Crap.

“Yep. Okay. Cool.” 

“Okay.”

“…”

“…”

“…” 

The awkward, pregnant pause was so tangible.

“Well I should-“

“Don’t you have-“

“…”

“I should go, uh, do things.”

“Yeah.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Dean.”

“It really wasn’t, but thanks.” 

“I’ll uh, see you later,” Castiel said before he left.

“No, you won’t,” Dean whispered to the shutting door.


End file.
